


A God and a Vampire

by blue_butterfly



Category: Being Human (UK), Britchell - Fandom, Mitchers - Fandom, The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Arguments, Baby Animals, Blow Jobs, Britchell, M/M, Pets, Poetry, Reconciliation, Romance, Sappy Ending, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Sex, hurtful words, lovebirds, mitchers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_butterfly/pseuds/blue_butterfly
Summary: This is a rescue post. I am putting all of my writings on AO3 because tumblr has already deleted my account twice and I don't wanna take a risk.All my smaller Britchell drabbles and ficlets will be collected under the "A god and a vampire" headline, but the chapters are independent, individual stories that can each be read separately.I am at blu-b and blu-be.tumblr.com





	1. Words to harm, words to heal

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rescue post. I am putting all of my writings on AO3 because tumblr has already deleted my account twice and I don't wanna take a risk. 
> 
> All my smaller Britchell drabbles and ficlets will be collected under the "A god and a vampire" headline, but the chapters are independent, individual stories that can each be read separately.
> 
> I am at blu-b and blu-be.tumblr.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' Bragi powers can do great wonders when unleashed - but also great harm.

Anders is Bragi and Bragi is the god of poetry; a deity that Mitchell has so far not paid much attention to. Anders uses the power of this god solely for cocky remarks, so Mitchell doesn’t give much credit to Bragi’s abilities. Until one evening Anders recites actual poetry for him in Bragi’s voice. The honeyed words flow from Anders’ mouth right into Mitchell’s soul. He’s never been so touched by poetry ever before. He holds his breath, enthralled, as the syllables glide into the air and hover there for a moment, almost palpable, lingering on for a fraction of a second before they dissolve. Some sentences whirr around Mitchell’s head like a hive of bees, some march in front of his inner eye like a procession of ancient monks, and others again propel high into the air like a colourful row of fireflies, each thought aglow with its own signature colour. 

  
Mitchell’s skin begins to crawl when Bragi invokes the haunted tone of Edgar Allan Poe. He feels elated and refined at William Blake’s holy hymns, and his undead heart aches at John Keats’ longing odes to love. He’s a bit astounded when Anders switches to Old English first, recounting the tale of _King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_ , then to fluent Norwegian within the blink of an eye to recite a story from the  _Prose Edda_ ; and then to German, declaiming an eerie 19th century ballad about a boy who gets lost in the moor.

The words spring to life, unfolding like a tapestry, so vivid and vibrant that Mitchell can almost reach out and touch them. Cadences turning into characters that parade about the room like a cavalcade right off the pages of ancient lore. Only after he’s already listened for some minutes, Mitchell notes the difference that finally makes him grasp the whole extent of the true power of Bragi’s words: Mitchell is able to understand each of these languages, although he’s never learned them. By the time Anders ends his linguistic display with a perfect Gaelic rendition of  _The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne_ , Mitchell has tears in his eyes and he swears never to poke fun at or underestimate Bragi’s powers again.

Anders is Bragi and Bragi is the god of words; and words are not limited to recounting beautiful tales or to provide for entertainment. Words can also pay harm. Mitchell has to learn it the hard way when he and Anders fight one day over something so trivial he can’t even remember it by the time everything escalates. Mitchell had started the fight, Anders had retorted, one word gave way to another until the first insults fell, fired by vampiric rage and godly power.

Bragi was delighted in this war of words, the god-soul singing out in joy and spite in Anders’ mind. The dark side of Mitchell was equally pleased, urging him on to let out all the pent up fury, until finally Mitchell said something hurtful and Anders countered with something that was definitely below waist line. They parted in anger, Anders locking himself up in the sleeping room and Mitchell sitting sullenly on the sofa in the living room.

After an adequate measure of sulking, their human minds finally win out and they meet on neutral ground, the kitchen.

Where there were too many words before, there are none now as either of them struggles to speak, not knowing what to say; and both Bragi and the vampire soul are remarkably quiet, leaving their vessels to fix the mess by themselves. Anders pads over to the large windows and looks out into the nightly sky, watching the stars and the city lights. Mitchell walks up behind him, no reflection marking his approach in the panes of glass, but Anders knows he’s there. Mitchell slings his arms around Anders’ shoulders and although the blond man stiffens for a second, he finally relaxes and leans back into the embrace, allowing Mitchell to press his face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. They stand like this for a while, looking out onto the dots of light that illuminate the city, watching the few tiny figures and cars that are still out there. In the end, Anders clasps one hand over Mitchell’s that rests on his chest.

“Why do we have to hurt each other?” the taller man whispers, gently rocking them from side to side. “We could use those words for so much more nicer things, and yet we choose to use them for harm.”

“I couldn’t stop…it was Bragi…”

Mitchell shook his head. “I had no Bragi, and I said hurtful things nevertheless.”

Again, minutes pass in silence until in the end, Anders blinks and takes a deep breath.

“ _Is tú mo ghrá,_ ” he whispers, and Mitchell smiles.

“ _Jeg elsker deg også_ ”.

And that is when they know that the real power behind their words is not some god or a supernatural might, but only them.

Anders and Mitchell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is tú mo ghrá = ‘You are my love’ in Irish Gaelic (lit. 'Is you mine love’).  
> Jeg elsker deg også = 'I love you, too’ in Norwegian.


	2. Critters and Creatures

John Mitchell is 118 years old and has seen pretty much everything in that long life of his. He’s not easily phazed by most of the stuff that’s happening around him. Thus, he rarely wonders about his boyfriend’s antics. Most of the time he just raises one of his bushy eyebrows into a steep arch and says nothing, lets the blond demi-god continue with whatever quirk it is that he’s currently indulging in. Usually the waves will calm down after a while, and Mitchell’s nerves will be spared the commotion.

Sometimes though, he is truly taken by surprise.

Like on that day when Anders came home with a small white box that had some suspicious holes in it. He held it out to Mitchell on his flat hand, a grin on his face that told the vampire he was probably in for a round of trouble.

“What’s that?” Mitchell inquired with a frown.  
“It’s a present for you.”  
“For me?”  
“Yes, Vlad." The blond grinned, but didn’t say more.

Presents from Anders were a bit of a double-edged blade. While Mitchell appreciated the notion, Anders’ presents were usually crappy as he rarely got Mitchell’s tastes right and ended up giving him some tacky stuff the vampire didn’t really want or need. The blond knew that. That was why they had agreed on not giving each other presents anymore. But Anders wouldn't be Anders if he weren’t breaking his own rules.   
  
Sighing, Mitchell put the dish brush on the counter, shoved the drying cloth into his belt and peeled off the yellow rubber gloves before he took the box from his boyfriend. He pulled off the lid and looked inside, only to gape at the content for a good two minutes or so. The present that had Anders grinning from one ear to the other was…

\- a bat.

A small, frightened, furry little baby bat was huddled in the corner of the box, its wings folded as if it was hugging itself and the tiny head tucked deeply between the leathery wings, the bright daylight probably hurting its eyes. Mitchell could certainly relate to that.

Carefully, the vampire sat down the box on the kitchen counter and looked at Anders. What in the name of fuck was the blond thinking? Where had he bought a bat anyway? This was certainly one of the worst presents ever, and Mitchell felt nothing but pity for the poor little creature in its cardboard prison.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The vampire glared at Anders.

“Aw come on, Dracula, don’t be so awful to our little guest here," the blond chuckled, sticking out his tongue. “I thought you might like some…company of your own kind.”

Mitchell swatted the dish cloth at him. “Idiot. Bats aren’t vampires. They don’t drink blood, despite what everybody thinks.”

“Now look who was awake during natural history class,” Anders quipped as he carefully reached a hand into the box and took the little animal out. When he placed it into his palm, tiny claws immediately wrapped around his index finger as the bat began to hold on.

“Aaaaw look who’s so cute. Are you cute, yes? Come here, little fur ball. Come to daddy,” the blond cooed and lightly scratched the tiny belly with one finger.

“Look at those big black eyes…almost like yours when you do your  _thing.”_

Mitchell rolled his eyes and let out a snort that conveyed exactly what he was thinking about Anders and his newly found friend.

“And he’s so hairy, just like…-”  
  
“Anders!” Mitchell warned, pointing the dish cloth at his boyfriend.

The blond actually giggled. The way he was biting his lips, holding back laughter suggested he was enjoying this far too much for his own good.

“Don’t pay attention to Vlad over there,” he continued talking to the animal. “…he’s just jealous.”

“Don’t call me that,” Mitchell said mechanically though he knew it wouldn’t be of much use.

“What, jealous? Or Vlad? Oh, but after all the impaling you did last night…” Anders was now running his finger along the leathery wing as the bat opened it up and seemed to get more comfortable. Talking to the animal instead of Mitchell, he went on. “For a bloodsucker he really knows how to handle a stake, you get what I mean?”

“Anders? Seriously, fuck you.”

“Not now, my King of the Night. Don’t you see I’ve got someone to tend to? Is there anything we could feed this little critter with?”

“Vodka?” Mitchell supplied.

Anders just shot him a glance. “Look, I know you don’t like my presents, but don’t take it out on him, okay? It’s not his fault you don’t want him.”

Had he misheard or was there a tiny bit of hurt in the blond’s voice?

“Then why did you buy a bat, for goodness’ sake? A live animal is not a toy, Anders, and this joke is really bad taste.”

“Wha…? I didn’t buy him, you egg. I found him on my way to the office!”

“You found it?”

“Yeah. On the ground, just like that, screeching like mad. I thought he might be hurt so I picked him up. Dawn helped me find a box to put him in and she found a nearby vet that I took him to. Turns out he's indeed a boy, and he’s not injured, just a little underfed but otherwise healthy. Doc said it’s best to keep him in for a while and make sure he eats until he’s reached the proper weight, then we can let him go again”.

“You actually rescued a little animal and wasted your precious time on it, oh god of I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-others?”

Now Anders looked really hurt as he glanced up at his boyfriend with big blue eyes.   
“You know, I’m not the one without a heart here,” he said quietly and turned around; the tiny animal still clinging to his palm, and that was when Mitchell knew he had made a mistake. Usually Anders would throw some words right back at him. If they fought, it was always loud and wordy. Silence on Anders’ part was never a good sign.

Shit.

That wasn’t what he’d intended. Mitchell cursed silently. He hadn’t meant to be hurtful. After all, it was kind of nice that Anders had actually rescued the little thing; and that he brought Mitchell a present at all, wasn’t it?

Throwing the drying cloth over his shoulder, the vampire walked up quietly to his boyfriend and slung his arms around Anders’ waist from behind; leaning down to rest his chin on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into blond hair and against warm skin.  
Anders remained silent and still.  
“Please?” Mitchell begged and the blond sighed. “I didn’t mean it…” He nosed up, kissing behind Anders’ ear. “Hey…please…? Don’t be upset anymore…I’m sorry.”

The tiny kisses made the blond’s pulse quicken, and finally he turned around to face Mitchell again.

“So can we keep him?” he asked.  
  
The vampire was confused for a second, then he realized the little bat was still there, clinging to his partner’s thumb.

Mitchell couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. Not when Anders’ eyes lit up like that and his features softened and he smiled a stupid smile and talked in a silly baby voice to the little animal that sat in his palm, and it looked up at him as if it understood every word of the babbling. The vampire had to hide a grin.

“Okay. Okay, we keep it if that makes you happy…”  
Anders nodded eagerly, and his eyes were almost as cute as the little black ones…cuter even.  
“I even have a name already.  _Lurch_ , like…”  
“The butler in the Addams Family. I get it, Anders.”

Kissing his boyfriend softly on the lips, Mitchell wrapped his arms around the blond man and pulled him closer.

“I’ve got one condition,” the vampire said before he let go of his boyfriend’s lips.  
“Which is?”  
“I’m the only one who gets to bite you.”  
“I can live with that, Nosferatu. At least you brush your teeth, unlike our little friend here.”

Mitchell huffed and rolled his eyes again. He slapped a flat hand playfully across Anders’ very well-shaped backside. The blond yelped and jumped, causing Lurch to flutter up, screeching, and seek a new refuge in the vampire’s dark curls.


	3. Adventures of a nightshirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, shameless sappiness and bad poetry. Also some smooching and petting and a bit of naked skin ;-)

John Mitchell has acquired many a kink during the course of his life, which is not really a surprise considering he’s well over a century old. His biggest kink, however, is a rather recent development, and while he’s always been one to openly accept any form of sexual desire, this one actually makes him blush, which is quite a feat in itself ‘cause it takes a lot to do that to a vampire.

The kink comes in the form of a shirt. More precisely, a white shirt. Even more precisely, in the form of his boyfriend in a big, loose, white shirt. Hell, his kink  _ **is**_  his boyfriend; it just gets a hundred times more intense when Anders is sleeping in this shirt that is far,  _far_ too big for his small frame. Mitchell doesn’t even know where he got it from, but it seems to be a favourite because it’s well-worn, and it’s soft, and there’s a print on the front that’s faded and barely legible from uncounted times in the washing machine.   
  
The shirt doesn’t have a defined cut of any sort. It’s just two rectangles of fabric with a V-neck and a worn-out elastic band at the hem, but there are a thousand ways in which Anders actually wears it. Sometimes he’s rolled into it up to his neck, sometimes it hangs so low it reveals his chest down to his belly button; then again it looks like a very sexy mini dress while the next time he wears it like a Roman martyr swathed in a veil.

 _The way the fabric_  
Ripples down your shoulders  
Envelops your skin  
Clings to your form  
Traces your every curve

This morning, Anders is lying on his side with his back towards Mitchell, legs slightly drawn up, and the shirt has slipped down to reveal the soft curve of one shoulder while the excess fabric billows at the wrist. Anders’ arm is bent up and his cheek is resting in his hand. Mitchell thinks it’s way too cute. He slinks closer, rolls over to lie behind his boyfriend, not spooning yet - he just wants to watch for a while, just wants to look at the peaceful image of Anders sleeping, it’s so innocent and sweet. And while Anders is hardly ever innocent when he’s awake, he certainly is when he sleeps; there’s that vulnerable look on his face that makes Mitchell want to curl around him and hold him and protect him from all the harm in this world.

 _I want to shield you_  
To protect you  
And to wrap you  
Into the cloth   
of my love.

Finally he moves up behind his boyfriend, melts very lightly against Anders’ back so he won’t wake the sleeping man; his own long body moulding itself along the lines of the smaller one. He wraps an arm around Anders’ middle and gently tightens his hold, running his palm up and down the soft, worn fabric of the shirt to feel the narrow waist underneath. Anders draws a deep, sleepy breath and lets it out in one long, content puff while he shifts a little in Mitchell’s arms, and there’s this hint of a whimper that makes Mitchell’s heart contract in a wave of fondness and love. Just like Anders is wrapped up in his shirt, Mitchell wants to be wrapped up in Anders with all his body and being.

 _All the fibres_  
That I am made of  
The threads of my being  
The yarn of my life  
Is woven through yours

He kisses the curve of the shoulder - the skin is warm under his lips and Anders smells of lemon and spices and salt and a little bit of Mitchell, but mostly of himself - and Mitchell inhales the heady scent as his lips travel up, butterfly-kissing along the other man’s throat up to his ear, noshing slightly at the tip.Then he kisses down his neck to just barely below the hairline – and there’s this little shiver that always comes when Mitchell goes for this particular spot – and he smiles against it while his fingers curl into that white shirt and pull it up just enough so he can circle and rub the warm skin beneath with his fingertips. He nibbles the little hill at the base of Anders’ neck and relishes in the shiver that runs across his boyfriend’s body; he mouths a succulent kiss there and rubs his nose up along the curve until it disappears in the blond hair again. Anders stretches, curls in and unfolds again like a lazy cat and he sighs, deep and content while he arches his back against Mitchell.

 _Unveiling you_  
Assailing you  
Unravelling you  
Bedazzling you  
Undoing you  
Uncovering you  
and loving you

Anders also isn’t wearing anything underneath that shirt. It’s slid up enough to reveal that there are no undies, his perfect round ass is peeking out just underneath the hem. A wave of hot arousal shoots through Mitchell’s body and he just wants to squish his boyfriend in the tightest of embraces and munch him like the sweet and scrumptious piece of cake he looks like. It’s a lazy Saturday morning, they have the day off and all the time in the world to lounge about in bed and do nothing….or anything, Mitchell thinks and hums while he scoops his boyfriend and that too big white shirt in his arms, tangles their legs together and buries his face into the crook of Anders’ shoulder.


	4. Lovebirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was based on a prompt: "Some cute and fluffy britchell? Like, if you could make it so cute and sappy that they disgust the rest of anders’ family that would be amazinggg..."
> 
> So, this is basically "Four times that Anders' family was annoyed", with a little side of Michele thrown in for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rescue post of an old fic due to a recent tumblr glitch that nearly made me lose my account and all my stories.

Ty Johnson swore to himself to never again go out with his brother and his brother’s boyfriend. Like,  _never ever_   again. He wasn’t ashamed of them because they were gay, no, that wasn’t the problem. In fact, Ty secretly thought they made a perfect couple, and whoever managed to actually tame Anders like Mitchell had done and get him into a relationship that was now lasting well over six months certainly deserved Ty's full respect, no matter whether that person was a girl or a bloke. So, having a gay brother wasn’t the source of the problem - although Anders would never cease to point out that he wasn’t gay in the strict sense, but was just making an exception for Mitchell. Whatever.

Ty had been looking forward to this evening. They’d settled on dinner at a rather posh restaurant, and a few drinks at their favourite bar afterwards. And while dinner had actually gone quite well apart from a few minor incidents such as Anders and Mitchell feeding each other bits of their respective dishes and giggling repeatedly like schoolgirls, it had quickly gone downhill once they arrived at the bar. The pair were sprawled across one of the sofas - the smallest one, mind you, which meant they had to tangle together for quite a bit - and they were….well. Ty crooked his neck to ogle them. Was that still a kiss? Or was it more like  _I’m going to devour you whole right now, no matter the audience?_  He tried to get their attention by calling first his brother, then the vampire by name, but none of them even bothered to look at him, if they’d even heard him at all.

They barely interrupted their smooching in the car on the way home, mainly because Anders had to drive, and even then Ty watched from the backseat as Mitchell’s hand sneaked onto Anders’ thigh and rested there; he saw the fond little smile that curled his brother’s lips when Anders turned to look at the vampire, and the silent exchange that went on between them. They dropped him off in front of his house and he wasn’t even properly out of the car when he saw them kissing again.

_Note to self: Never again go out with the lovebirds._

*

Axl was pretty pissed, and not in a way that had anything to do with alcohol. By the looks of it, the same went for his flat mate. Zeb and Axl usually liked having Mitchell around. The Irishman was great fun, he loved old horror films and video games, pizza and beer and all the bloke stuff. The three had clicked on a friendship level almost instantly after being introduced, and when Anders had to work, Axl and Zeb often invited Mitchell over for a round of Playstation or some good old Hammer Horror flicks. Those evenings were different though whenever Anders decided to tag along - like today. The original plan had been to watch some action classics, but within the shortest time possible Mitchell’s concentration shifted from the film to the hands and lips of his boyfriend, and soon enough Bruce Willis’ wisecracking lines were drowned out by the sounds of sloppy and very intense kissing in the dark. Both Axl and Zeb tried various strategies to ignore it - which included turning up the TV volume, improvising a new dialogue, rustling with crisp bags and live-commenting the movie, but none of that seemed to work. Then there was a particularly loud kiss together with a soft gasp, and Anders actually breathed  _‘oh, babe’_  - and both Zeb and Axl let out a disgusted groan.

“Get a room!” Zeb shouted, covering his ears, and Axl snapped that if he’d wanted porn, he’d have rented a different DVD.

The couple behaved for the rest of the night, only exchanging little touches and an occasional peck on the lips, but for the two youngsters the evening was still kind of ruined.

*  
  


Olaf was present one day when Anders got a call from Mitchell 

 _\- hello gorgeous -_    
  
on his mobile. Apparently, the vampire   
  
 _\- what’s up, Dracula -_    
  
was asking his boyfriend   
  
 _\- aaaw you're so cute -_    
  
whether Anders could possibly   
  
 _\- if you say pretty please, pouty-mouth -_    
  
pick him up from work that afternoon, and   
  
 _\- of course, babe -_    
  
Anders could   
  
 _\- but only if you make amends to me later_.

Olaf also heard his grandson coo into the receiver that  _I miss you so much_  and  _can’t wait to be home with you_ , and then there was a series of imitation kisses and quite a few giggles that were far too unmanly for a Norse god, and some more sweet words that Olaf couldn’t understand because thank you, Anders actually kept his voice down.

Still, the conversation left Olaf kind of damaged for the rest of his life.  
  


*

Anders Johnson was Bragi, god of poetry, whose mighty words could bend mortals to his will - and royally fuck up somebody’s life, should he choose to. As if that weren’t enough already, the second oldest Johnson had hooked up with one of the most dangerous beings in this world, a vampire - a deadly and merciless creature, a natural born killer. They were a combined force to be reckoned with.

Just that this particular vampire was…well, different. This vampire was wearing a yellow shirt and cute green mittens and a smile to light up the universe; and he had his hands around Anders’ waist and his face in the blond man’s hair, placing kisses into it and whispering endearments into his ear.

And the god of poetry?

He was grinning from ear to ear as he leaned back to run a hand trough the vampire’s dark locks and capture him in a deep kiss, so deep actually that an embarrassed silence fell over the entire company gathered at Mike’s bar, a silence that lasted several minutes, just like the kiss.

Both Mike and Michele could only stare in mixed fascination and horror as the former god of bullshit transformed into a starry eyed softie in front of their very eyes.

  
“I love you,” Mitchell purred and kissed the tip of Anders’ nose.   
“Love you more,” Anders replied and pecked Mitchell on the lips.   
“Gaaaah eeew!” Michele said and rolled her eyes.   
“Fuck’s sake!” Mike groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The lovebirds neither heard nor saw any of those reactions. Mitchell whispered something into Anders’ ear and the blond nodded, misty-eyed. Holding hands, they sneaked from the counter to the stairs (or at least they thought they were sneaking; in reality they were kind of stumbling, tearing at each other’s clothes while never breaking their kiss) and disappeared to the first floor, ignoring Mike’s vehement protests. Some minutes later, there were some rhythmic sounds and tiny little noises coming from upstairs, and the remaining Johnsons almost wished the god and the vampire had never met.

_I love you._

Almost wished…


	5. Leave those gloves on!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …the question is: does Mitchell keep his gloves on when he and Anders have impromptu sex????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rescue post of an old fic. This is on the longish side. 
> 
> E rating for this one because sex.
> 
> Gloves kink, kinky sex, finger fucking, anal sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, a bit of a cross-dressing kink, Mitchell in lingerie, a bit of breath play (choking) at the end.

The first time it happened, they were mid-way to having wild, impromptu sex in Anders’ kitchen, tearing at each other’s clothes as Mitchell lifted the blond god up on the counter and yanked down his dress slacks, while Anders sent the buttons on the vampire’s plaid a-rolling all over the floor. When Mitchell wanted to peel off the last remnant of clothing he was wearing, his gloves, Anders stopped him by grabbing his wrist. 

“No. Leave those on!”  
  
The brunet lifted an eyebrow at that but complied, not really patient enough to question Anders’ whims.

There was no mention of gloves for a long time and Mitchell continued wearing his woollen green mittens, although he had the impression that Anders moane louder and came harder whenever they were having sex and Mitchell forgot to pull them off. But surely that was just him imagining stuff. Until one day Anders was buried knuckles-deep inside him, finger-fucking the living daylights out of him while delivering one of the sloppiest, amazing-est blowjobs Mitchell has ever had. While in the throes of passion, he unconsciously stretched his arms above his head, gloves and all. Anders’ eyes were fixed on Mitchell’s hands and his tongue did such filthy things that Mitchell could last no longer than a few seconds before he spilled into his boyfriend’s mouth. When Anders fucked him afterwards, the blond grabbed his wrists and pinned him down so fiercely that it got Mitchell hard again in no time.

The vampire began to understand that Anders had a thing for the gloves.

The blond asked him to leave them on while being fingered open in preparation for something bigger. When Mitchell asked why, he got a look from lust-blown eyes and a simple  _“‘cause they’re hot!”_

So he duly did as ordered. His fingers curled against Anders’s prostate and the blond muttered obscenities while trying to pull him deeper.

*

One day Mitchell came home to find a present on his side of their bed, draped meaningfully across his pillow. It was a pair of black leather gloves, fingerless, slightly longer than his usual knitted mittens. There was a row of flat silver studs across the knuckles, but other than that they were undecorated. They fit him like, pardon the pun, gloves, and while he was still trying them on and flexing his hands, Anders appeared in the doorway behind him.

“Hot,” was all the blond said, leaning casually against the door frame and eyeing Mitchell with this sort of rare hunger that only came up when they hadn’t had sex for a longer time, or when Anders had a particularly naughty thought. Since they’d had sex this morning before Mitchell left for his shift at the hospital, there could only be one other answer. Sauntering over to the vampire, the blond draped one arm around Mitchell’s waist while the other reached out to caress one leather-gloved hand. 

  
“Do you like them?” He asked in this low, raunchy voice, pressing himself against his vampire boyfriend so that Mitchell could feel the length of hot arousal burning through both their pants.   
  
“Yeah, I…they’re great. Thank you”.   
  
“Aw, you’re welcome. I like them, too”. He leaned in closer, whispering against Mitchell’s ear while his tongue flicked out to trace the shell of it.   
  
“They make you look tough and dangerous…”Mitchell shuddered at the feeling of the hot tongue against his ear and let his leather-clad hands drop down to cup his god-boyfriend’s shapely butt. “I don’t need gloves to make me look tough, you know…”  
  
“Is that so?” The blond smirked, arching into the touch. “Well, you can show me just _how_ tough you are…”  
  
“Yeah? How?”  
  
“By wearing nothing but these gloves and fucking me right into next week…”  
  
Mitchell was naked in no time.  
  
* 

He doesn’t mind wearing the leather gloves whenever Anders asks for it. It’s a little kink Mitchell finds quite endearing, and it’s not like Anders has suddenly stopped liking gloveless sex, so there’s no harm done in feeding that kink from time to time.

However, when the next present turns out to be a pair of elbow-length black stretchy gloves with horizontal slashes in them, Mitchell just snorts.

“I’m not wearing this, Anders, it’s gonna look plain stupid,” he says and tosses them aside, ignoring his boyfriend’s massive pout.

Anders never mentions them again but they sit on the dresser chair in their sleeping room like a burning reminder. Some days later while Anders is at work and Mitchell has a day off, his gaze falls on them when he steps out of the shower, and against better knowledge he slips them on. There’s hardly a moment when Mitchell regrets not having a reflection, but this is one of them. He’s curious to see what he looks like. _Probably stupid_ , he thinks angrily when he realizes what he’s actually doing, and he’s about to pull them off again when the bedroom door opens and Anders walks in, home early from work.

And  _oh fuck_ , suddenly there’s no need for a mirror or a reflection at all, because Mitchell sees the look on Anders’ face, the glint that steals into his eyes as he looks the brunet over, and that tells the vampire everything he needs to know.

They’re on the bed within seconds and Anders is inside him before they even hit the mattress and -  _holy fuck, it's so good!_ Mitchell finds himself unexpectedly and secretly turned on like hell by the fact that Anders is so hard for him just because of these little bits of fabric.

They do each other twice that night and the gloves never come off until they’re sticky and wet from sweat and cum.

*

Okay, so Anders has a glove fetish.

Like, a massive one.

After the slashed fabric ones come various others, all fingerless and somewhere between wrist and elbow-length, though the long ones are Anders’s absolute favourites. He tells Mitchell one night that he just looks super-sexy in them. They come in a variety of materials, too: from simple fishnet ones to a pair laced with satin ribbons, and really fancy ones in black stretch with a net insert. Anders orders them off a UK website that sells Goth clothes, and he’s become a somewhat regular customer.

Mitchell doesn’t mind for the most part. Why should he when all it takes him to get laid like never before is wearing a pair of gloves?  He’s more than happy to comply. And no matter whether it’s him on his back getting fucked, or whether he’s spilling himself into his boyfriend’s willing body, it’s wilder, more fierce, more intense whenever he’s in on one of these accessories.

Until one day Anders tries to talk Mitchell into really tacky, fishnet ones with a lace frill, and matching stay up stockings with a little black satin bow at the top because  _shit, that’d look so hot on those sinfully long legs of yours!_

And Mitchell isn’t sure at all, it’s a bit too much for his liking -  _girly underwear, Anders please..?!_  

But when he sees the fire in the blond’s eyes it gives him an idea of all the wicked thoughts going on in the god’s head. In the end he complies because Anders has never disappointed him with his choices. They’ve done so many things that felt awkward or stupid at first but turned into something hot, and it’s not like anyone would see them, right? So, why not girly underwear?

Mitchell pulls the stockings up his hairy legs and the nylon is surprisingly cool against his skin, and he slides on the gloves - and  _fuck_ , there’s little bows everywhere and he feels so ridiculous it’s a relief he can’t see himself in the mirror because he knows he’s blushing like a teen. He almost wants to strip the whole gear off again, but then he catches a glimpse of Anders splayed on the bed, already naked and palming a massive erection, just waiting for Mitchell to sink down onto it.

And  _Jesus Christ_ , Anders’ face when Mitchell steps out from behind the closet and gives him a full, good view…god almighty, it’s priceless. He looks at Mitchell as if the brunet’s a particularly delicious dish and  he never stops stroking himself while he beckons Mitchell over to the bed.

The vampire ends up riding Anders so hard they’re both not even able to moan or scream anymore but just make these hoarse, grunting sounds. Mitchell arches his body back in a curve and Anders’ fingernails dig into the skin of his thighs and the small of his back, leaving crescent marks of pleasure as he holds the vampire steady and thrusts up into him while dirty words fall from his lips like strings of pearls. It all makes Mitchell feel so filthy, but he loves every single second of it. They come at the same time, the vampire shooting creamy patterns all over his lover’s stomach while Anders’ seed is dripping from his hole and running down the blond’s slowly softening shaft to pool on the crumpled sheets.

And Anders just loves it when Mitchell’s stripped down to nothing but gloves, and what he loves even more is asking Mitchell to touch himself with them, to wrap glove-clad hands around his cock and start stroking, up and down, slowly, teasing Anders who watches so hungrily.

So one day Mitchell goes to great lengths to surprise his boyfriend. Up until now it’s always been Anders who brought on the presents, and Mitchell kind of wants to pay him back for the amazing sex they’ve had every time. They don’t do this on a regular basis, it’s more like this special treat that’s pulled from its box every once in a while, so the novelty and excitement doesn’t wear off to soon.

And excited is exactly what Mitchell feels when he unwraps his newest purchase from the delicate tissue paper and runs his hands over the surface. He hopes Anders will like them, but he’s almost sure he can tell the blond’s taste in the meantime. So he takes his time to prepare for his boyfriend. He slips on the new gloves - black velvet, and this time they’ve got fingers. He found them at a vintage store, they’re actually from the 1920s. The soft material caresses his skin and Mitchell almost gets hard from the sheer feeling of the fabric. Once his arms are sheathed fully inside them, the gloves reach up past his elbow. His fingers look even longer. Mitchell feels sexy, wearing nothing but two long pieces of black velvet. Sexy and sinful. Out of a whim, he has also bought a pearl necklace at the same shop. He had a feeling that it’d look good with the gloves, and indeed it does - well, again, he can’t see himself, but it certainly feels good. Debauched. Forbidden. Anders is going to love it.

Mitchell drapes himself across the bed like a huge present and waits. Not long until he hears the door, hears Anders call out for him, and he says nothing but lets his boyfriend come to the bedroom, lets Anders walk in on him totally unprepared, and Mitchell actually rejoices at the face the blond is making once he catches sight of his vampire spread out like that, arms draped casually over the pillows and a smug smile on his lips. Anders' eyes are so huge and wide and lust-blown. Mitchell gives him his best 'come hither’ look, knowing perfectly that it works every single time.

The blond god climbs on the bed, watching Mitchell with hungry eyes as he leans down to slide his tongue inside the vampire’s mouth. There are no preliminaries, no teasing or fooling around.

“Touch yourself for me," Anders commands him after the kiss breaks, and Mitchell complies readily, the tone sending a shiver down his spine. He absolutely loves when Anders takes control like that. Mitchell’s velvet fingers wrap around his filling cock and lazily stroke it to hardness, meeting Anders’ eyes in a smouldering, daring gaze.

The blond is licking his lips as he slowly peels off his own clothing, watching in fascination as the black velvet slides over the smooth head of the vampire’s cock. He watches as Mitchell pulls back the foreskin and runs a black-clad finger along the ridge, as teases the little slit and reaches down to fondle his balls while he pumps himself with long, deliberate strokes of his fist.

Mitchell is taking delight in this, both in the treatment he’s giving himself and in the show he’s giving his boyfriend. His breath is speeding up already, his cock hardening under the strange, new sensation of the velvet fabric rubbing over it.

His boyfriend is stripped down now as well. Anders doesn’t need a hand between his legs to get his interest up. He’s already hard and leaking from the view that is presented to him. Mitchell arches his back and hips off the bed in a rolling motion, unconsciously relieving the build-up of tension in his stomach. Anders squints as he catches a glimpse of the pink promise that lies behind the vampire’s taut balls.

“Go on,” he rasps. “Do that again. Show me your delicious little hole."

Mitchell can’t help the moan that leaves his throat as he rolls to his side and lifts one leg to give the blond another good view. His fingers find his hole and he uses two of them to spread it open for display, moaning again at the sheer filthiness of the position.

“That’s good,” Anders slurs, drawing out the vowels as if drunken from the sight. “Rub yourself for me, come on…such a lovely little hole. Rub it with your fingers 'til it’s red as a cherry.”

That raunchy voice is shooting straight to Mitchell’s groin, and it’s not even Bragi ordering him around but simply Anders - yet he’s helpless and has to do as he’s told. He circles his hole with a finger, the velvet so soft and teasing against the sensitive muscle. He spreads and rubs himself for Anders’ pleasure, and for his own. Suddenly there’s movement on the bed as Anders goes for the drawer and reaches for the lube. Mitchell draws a sharp breath when gooey liquid drips down his cleft and grazes his throbbing pucker.

“Finger yourself open,” comes the order as more lube is squeezed onto his fingers, soaking through the fabric of the gloves. “Come on, I want to see you working that hole”.

The vampire’s head drops back to the pillows and a ripple runs through his body as he moans. He does as ordered, panting with the effort, the angle, and the bolt of lust shooting through him as first one, then two fingers breach his passage and push inside. He shoves them in and pulls back out again, and again, not caring whether he ruins the gloves, he just wants to get off now because  _fuck, this is hot_ …and it can’t possibly get any hotter, or that’s what he thinks before he feels himself being stretched open even more, feels two more fingers coming up his ass and  _oh god it’s so good, please, Anders_ …and they find a rhythm together that makes Mitchell moan out loud and rock his hips down onto their hands.

“That’s it, work that hole for me…four fingers up your tight little ass, do you even know how gorgeous you look like this? Aaah fuck, Mitchell…pump your cock again, I wanna see you cum..”

“Nnnnhhh…uuuh…,” is all the vampire manages to say as he blindly reaches for his cock that’s bobbing against his stomach and gives himself a few quick, hard pumps while pushing down onto his own and his boyfriend’s fingers, splitting himself open.

The blond’s fingers curl against his prostate, and Mitchell howls. “Oh fuck, Anders, I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You’re gonna what, huh? You’re gonna cum all over those velvet gloves, yeah? You’re gonna spill some pearls like the ones round your neck? Yes baby…that’s it…cum for me, go on…make a mess of yourself…”

With a scream and a last push into his fist Mitchell comes, hard. He’s shooting all over his stomach, spilling over the gloves and over Anders’s hand. Anders keeps finger-fucking him through all of it, until he has pumped out the last pearly drop and his cock is empty, but still so achingly hard.

Anders removes his fingers with an obscene plop. Mitchell begins to slip his own fingers out as well but is stopped by a sharp command.

“Those fingers stay where they are.”

His eyes fly open as he looks at Anders in shock, but his boyfriend is totally serious. Mitchell knows that smirk. It tells him the blond is up to something naughty. He takes Mitchell’s free hand in his and begins to lick the droplets of cum from the gloves, then he leans down to lap up the rest from the vampire’s stomach and chest, gathering every single drop in his mouth as he minutely cleans up the 'mess’ Mitchell has been ordered to make.

Only when Anders leans in for a kiss and nudges the brunet’s mouth open, Mitchell realizes he hasn’t swallowed the seed at all. 

 _Oh god, that’s so filthy_ …

He moans into his boyfriend’s mouth when he’s being fed his own cum in a lazy kiss. He’s still spreading his hole onto his fingers, his gloves wet from sperm and lube - but,  _shit, it’s so so so fucking good…_

“You’re gorgeous,” Anders whispers against his lips and earns himself a feverish glance from chocolate eyes. “I need to fuck you now…”

As if to illustrate his words, the blond god fists his neglected cock. Mitchell can’t help but moan wantonly at the sight of what’s going to fill him up soon, and thanks to his vampire stamina he’s already growing hard again.

He wants to remove his fingers to make room for his boyfriend’s cock, but is once again stopped by a hand that pushes his fingers even deeper. 

 _Wha..?_  he asks but doesn’t get any further before the tip of Anders’s cock is nudging against his ring and then…

 _...oh holy crap!_ …he’s pushing inside along Mitchell’s fingers and  _fuuuck_ , the sensation of it, being stretched like that…holy fucking shit it’s good, so good, and hot, and dirty and  _Jesus fuck, Anders please move!_

He’s being filled up and getting pounded so good, fuck, he had no idea he needed it this badly, Anders’s cock slipping in and out of him and his own fingers covered in slick velvet and nailing his prostate repeatedly until he sees stars. His thighs fly open, his free hand grabs the bars of the bed, and he’s screaming now in sheer pleasure, encouraging Anders to do whatever he wants to him because Mitchell is undone beyond any limits and utterly at his service…

Anders grabs him by the pearl necklace around his throat and twists it round his hand, slightly choking him while his thrusts into Mitchell’s ruined passage become harder, rougher, frenzied with the need to finally spill over the edge.

“God, you’re so tight…so fucking tight inside, so slick and hot, you feel so good…you’re working my cock so good, yeah baby keep doing that, keep clenching that muscle…yeah fuck…your fingers rubbing against me, that’s so hot baby, you’re so fucking hot I need to come inside you…”

And then there’s a shout and a groan, Anders’s forehead drops to Mitchell’s shoulder and the vampire feels something hot splashing into him, but he can’t think anymore because he’s coming so hard again, untouched by himself or Anders, and he just flails and falls bonelessly back to the sheets.

*

When they come down from their high after what seems like hours, still panting, glistening from sweat and other body fluids, Anders carefully peels the gloves off Mitchell and tosses them aside, then he links hands with his boyfriend and rubs his nose against the vampire’s while his other hand plays with the pearls again.

“Quite creative, flapper boy,” he smiles and tilts his head up in search for Mitchell’s lips.

“Anything for you, grand old pervert,” the vampire quips, smiling, before he answers the kiss.

 


End file.
